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Blessed Be

October 1, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Fall and the Michaelmas Moon

Friday gratefuls: Mussar. Women friends. CBE. Kep and Rigel, my loft dogs. David and his prostate cancer journey. New schedule. Better. Mike Rogers from Bear Creek Design. His expansive (read: expensive) vision. A fun one. Cardio at 4:30 pm.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: L’chaim!

Tarot: King of Wands, Druid

Not sure about my sleep button, but it sure got pushed this week. 9 hours yesterday. Maybe 10 today. Combination. Orgovyx and very, very low testosterone. Working out harder, longer. A calmness in my soul. Colder nights. Really don’t want to sleep this much, but I feel it’s ok for a bit as I adjust to the new drug and the new (really, old) workout intensity.

Overall energy has improved. Partly due to better sleep, I’m sure. Also, getting used to Orgovyx. Less turmoil in my inner world.

Bear Creek Design came out yesterday. Mike Rogers, who worked on our bathroom, is a design/build guy. He wants to take down walls, extend the footprint of the kitchen, put in a wall with a fireplace in the former sewing room. Make a “cute breakfast area with a pot belly stove” and finish the large part of the old sewing room into a formal dining room. I doubt I’ll do any of it since I’m spending my remodel money on the mini-splits, but what the hell. Maybe I’ll get a windfall somehow.

Talked with David yesterday. At 63 his PSA, after a long stretch in the 2.0’s (perfectly ok for a healthy guy, jumped to 17! Yikes. Then, by the time he saw an urologist, it had hit 43. Double yikes. This was three years ago.

Metastatic disease. From nothing to advanced prostate cancer in weeks. But. Since that point he has had undetectable PSA tests. Wow. And, when I spoke with him yesterday at one of the high tables in the Muddy Buck, he told me his latest scans have shown no mets anywhere.

In his first scans they had seen innumerable hits in his lungs and significant disease in his sacrum. All disappeared. Clear. Not gone, dormant, but no longer spreading. Three years. After way more cancer progression than I’ve ever had. Hopeful.

Realized this last month. I’ve had prostate cancer for over six and a half years. Seems like a long time when I say it like that. And, now, I’m never getting rid of it. However. If I can achieve undetectable over a long span of years, well, ok then. Cancer as a chronic disease. Wow.

Appointment with Kristie, my P.A., today. We’ll look at the numbers from my lab results. Notables are 1.0 PSA (definitely detectable), blood sugar at 98, and high creatinine. This is the future for me. PSA every three months. Blood tests when necessary. Take the meds. Live with cancer. Live. Yes.

King of wands today. “A need to make important decisions, set goals.” Well, yeah.

Signed up for Astrology and Kabbalah at the Kabbalah Experience. Taught by two CBE’rs: Elisa Robyn. My astrologist. (oh. never thought I’d write that) and Luke Colaciello, the new Executive Director at CBE. He co-taught the Tarot and Kabbalah with Rabbi Jamie this summer.

Four years or so of Kabbalah. Getting intense with the Tarot. Coming back around to Astrology. The brain and heart and soul getting a good workout. Splotches of paint on a new canvas. Can getting back to Jenny’s Dead be far behind?

from the Shadow Mountain Hermitage, blessed be

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Michaelmas

September 29, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Fall and the Michaelmas Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Coyote HVAC. Starting next Thursday. Greg Lell, starting tomorrow on house staining. Mussar. Tarot. Kabbalah. Astrology. Elisa Robyn. Rabbi Jamie. Alan. David Jordani. Tom Crane and his colleague who recommended the mini-splits. Shirley Waste. Frozen dinners. Cool nights. Rain and snow on the way. Ruth and her first homecoming. Max. Claire and Patrick, his mom and dad. Paul and Sarah, grandpop and grandma. Kate, aunt.

Sparks of joy and awe: Writing. Michaelmas. Tom and Roxann, anniversary.

Tarot: Rebirth, #20 of the major arcana, Druid

And so this day comes round at last. Michaelmas. The feast day of the Archangel Michael, defender of heaven, God’s most fierce warrior. Tom and Roxann celebrate their wedding anniversary on this day, usually on the North Shore, sometimes with a cooked goose. Jen, mother of Ruth and Gabe, celebrates her birthday. And Rudolf Steiner thought of this day as the springtime of the soul.

I feel, different. Better. Almost like having awakened. Not woke in the social justice sense, but in the, oh this is what my soul needs to do next sense. Seems like the Tarot and my chart reading with Elisa on Monday and my own feeling that Michaelmas could be the date for a life transition have synched up, said YES.

Delacroix Eugene: St Michael Defeats the Devil

I’ve got a few things underway: house staining starting tomorrow and the mini-splits install beginning next Thursday. My Tree of Life Spread class starts on Saturday. I meet with Kristie on Friday. PSA at 1.0. Not quite low enough. Perhaps a kidney issue in the bloodwork panel. We’ll see. Started a new painting. Changed my days, I hope permanently. Looking forward to the Woolly Retreat at the end of this month.

The loft’s organization makes sense now. Not cluttered. Some more work to do. Still pruning downstairs. Wanting to get further along before snow. Not quite sure how to manage that. But, I’ll figure it out. Back at my workouts and feeling better physically.

Here’s something I got from Elisa on Monday. “I’m a reconstructionist. Just not a Jewish reconstructionist. I’m an MOT (member of the tribe) of Congregation Beth Evergreen and Jamie is my Rabbi.” “Oh,” Elisa’s face lit up in a big smile, “That’s such an Aquarian thing to do. To be in but not of something. And you may decide later that that’s over for you.” “Yes. When I met Kate, I had known for a year or more that I had to leave the ministry. It was over.”

Since September 23rd, I have drawn the Lady, #3 of the Major Arcana, three times, The Moon, #18, and, today, on Michaelmas, Rebirth, #20. In the last 8 days I’ve drawn 5 Major Arcana. The Lady and the Moon both point toward the anima and the inner world, living into the feminine creative energy, my Yin chi. The rebirth card. Well, that’s another matter and it came on Michaelmas. I consider that more than significant. It’s a clear message.

According to the Druid Craft Book, the message is: “You hear the call and awaken to the new light of day. You have entered the darkness and drunk of the cup of silence. You have chosen life and emerge reborn.”

Meaning: “The Power of the Call. You may have heard the call of the spiritual path you are seeking. Rebirth into a life that is more fully your own. You may have come to a crossroads in your life, and a decision is required that will take you in a new direction.”

Life has given me no choice. Change or retreat. Grief forces the soul to reconsider its location, its direction, its purpose. Yes, even its calling. I count my grief as having begun on September 28th, 2018, three years ago yesterday. That was the day of Kate’s bleed. The acceleration of her decline.

From that day forward my life had as its everyday anchor Kate’s medical and emotional and spiritual needs. Not that I could fulfill them all, no, but her gradual physical diminishment meant no day could pass without considering them.

I took her hand that day, September 28th, and never let go until April 12th of this year. The letting go was so painful, so shocking. Disorienting. Even disfiguring my soul. Nothing abnormal. Mourning. Then, grief and its labyrinth.

It was as Dante said.

IN the midway of this our mortal life,
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray
Gone from the path direct: and e’en to tell
It were no easy task, how savage wild
That forest, how robust and rough its growth,
Which to remember only, my dismay
Renews, in bitterness not far from death.

Those caregiving years were not hell. Kate, my love and my soulmate, was still alive; but, they did hold suffering and torture for both of us. When she took that long, last ride, I climbed the mammoth frozen body of the Devil into purgatory. I’m still there, but I can see the sky above me.

Today I identify with the curly haired boy standing at the exit of an elaborate dolmen. A priest, a Druid perhaps, sounds a trumpet of relief. The journey through the Inferno is complete. Purgatory lies almost behind.

I can feel the hesitancy in him. The darkness, the strangeness of purgatory still more familiar. The long, long path from that dark Wood more known than what lies ahead.

Symbols of eternal life, of rebirth, like the Holly and the Mistletoe and the Hare and the triskelion crowd the picture below him.

Will he step out of the door? Embrace the Hare. I know he wants to. The energy and promise, the possibility of life renewed, remade, reimagined, reconstructed only just ahead.

He feels, as I do, an expansion in my chest, a lifting of the head, eyes no longer cast down, or around in a worried scan. That feeling, that alone, can propel him out into the sun.

Let it be so. For him. And, for me.

St. Michael and the Devil, 16th century Book of Hours

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Be Content

September 24, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Fall and the Michaelmas Moon

Friday gratefuls: Michelle and David. Also prostate cancer engaged. Rabbi Jamie. The Sukkah. Getting my own plaque on the yahrzeit wall. Turning in my CBE legacy confirmation form. Chili cheese dogs and nachos at the Chi Town food truck in Evergreen. Workout, cardio. Fatigue. Orgovyx.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Thar’s gold in them thar Mountains!

Tarot: Four of Cups, Wildwood

Cardio yesterday. Joined a prostate cancer online site. Inspire. They asked what inspired me. Here’s my answer:

The sound of a Mountain Stream. The Wind through the Lodgepole Pines. That herd of Elk with the 12 point Bull. The love of Rigel and Kepler, my two old Dogs. The three Elk bulls who visit me each June to eat Dandelions. Ruth and Gabe, my grandkids. The Sun in the Day and the Moon at Night. My friends, lifelong and new. The sturdy Rock of Shadow Mountain on which I live.

More convinced now that cinching up my Soul into some dogmatic strait jacket makes no sense. See what you’re looking at. Admire and respect the 10,000 things. Walk tall and with others so you can go far. Be honest with yourself and with family, friends, and acquaintances. Wash dishes. Cook food. Celebrate.

If you want more on this Way, read Chuang Tzu’s inner chapters. Or, the Tao Te Ching. Or, Mary Oliver. Wendell Berry. Rilke. Thomas Berry. The Grammar of Animacy in Braiding Sweetgrass. Or, open yourself. Let the world in. Be part of it, be with it.

Maybe this is just a pragmatist’s Way. Truth is in what works for you. Not what you have to figure out through some sort of self-imposed Scholasticism.

Here’s a clue: if you have a adjust yourself to fit an ideology or a theology or psychology, think twice, three times. What do you understand? What do you see? What do you want?

Is it really this simple? Yes, I think it is. Another way of saying the same thing, “Living until you die is to live long enough.” Lao Tze

Four of Cups

“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself” – Zen Proverb

“The Four of Cups can also indicate a time when you are turning your attention and your energy internally, to realign to this new phase of your life. You know that you need to be standing on terra firma before you can decide your next steps…You are creating the space within yourself so that you are ready to accept new opportunities later and give them the best possibility of success. Use this time for inward reflection, grounding, and contemplation before accepting the next ‘big thing’.” Biddy Tarot

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Tradition a longer conversation summarized

September 20, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

Tarot: Nine of Stones in the Wildwood Deck

Meaning (according to the Wildwood Tarot book-WTB):

Reverence for past wisdom and sacrifice. The ability to relate to ancient knowledge and pass on the lessons of ancestral memory and ritual.

Let me throw in here, too, Ovid. And, my interest in pre-Socratic philosophers like Thales, Anaximander, Heraclitus. Dante. The Tao. The early world of Hinduism. Christianity and Judaism. Those very early shamanic faiths of the Mongols, of the Japanese (Shinto), the Koreans.

Even anthropology. My interest in anthropology was to find the way of other peoples, to know and understand them as much on their own terms as possible. Travel as well. The learning inherent in being the other.

I’m not a syncretist. I’m not an everybody has something to teach us sorta guy. Though there’s a sense in which that’s true. I’m not trying to find the one truth that snakes through all the traditions. There isn’t one. And, yes, I’m pretty sure of that.

There is though this truth. The human body, its limitations and potentials, does remain pretty much the same over time. The brain and its evolution has hardwired certain ways of responding to the world around us. Though there have been dramatic climatic changes like the ice age, the sorts of challenges the world provides in its various regions remain at least similar even today.

What I’ve done, often without knowing it, is to immerse myself in the thought ways, the life ways, the ritual ways of so many different cultures over long periods of time and in very different geographical and geological conditions that I feel like a citizen of multiple cultures, yet beholden to none of them. Including, perhaps most of all, my own.

The tricky part for those of us raised in the West and in the Judaeo-Christian tradition can be capsulized in one word: progress. Progress assumes linear time. Progress assumes one culture can evaluate others qualitatively. Nineteenth century France is better than, nineteenth century England. Or, China’s civilization is superior to everyone else’s outside the Middle Kingdom. Or, we, the USA, will make the world safe for democracy, the obvious best form of government.

Progress both puts blinders on us, makes jingoists of us all, and imagines an unproven and unprovable idea: that next year, next day, next minute things will get better. By whose standards? Mine? Yours? Theirs? The citizens of ancient Ephesus? Of X’ian. Of Kyoto.

Of course, central heating beats a fire in the middle of the hut with a hole in the top to let smoke out. Of course, driving in a motorized vehicle is easier than walking or riding a horse. Of course, air conditioning is preferable to suffocating heat. You can extend this list.

But. Is central heating progress? Depends on the fuel, in one way of looking at it. Natural gas, propane, and heating oil are all common fuels. Think. Climate change.

Same question about driving and air conditioning.

Humans tend to favor the thing they have and know. So, today is better than yesterday.

Meaning (according to the Wildwood Tarot book-WTB):

Reverence for past wisdom and sacrifice. The ability to relate to ancient knowledge and pass on the lessons of ancestral memory and ritual.

As a 1960’s radical, anti-establishment, pushing for new political, military, economic, sexual, intellectual mores, to consider myself one who reveres past wisdom, ancient knowledge? No. No. No.

Yet. There I was studying Socrates. Zoroaster. Ovid. Greek history. Biblical literature. Dante. Taoism. The history of ancient civilizations like Assyria, the Qin dynasty, Middle Kingdom Egypt. Not only studying. Learning. And in that learning, unbeknownst to me, at least partially, being shaped by that learning.

When I went to seminary, I saw the utility of the prophetic tradition in Judaism and Christianity. It could be used to press for change on behalf of the widow and the orphan, the enslaved, the oppressed, the poor and the hungry. I considered this tradition, that of the prophets of Ancient Israel, the real gem in the long years since the death of Jesus.

It was. And, is. But. There is another jewel there, too. One only accessible to the meditator, the reader of scripture, the ascetic, the one willing to face the root of the faith. To get burned by its heat. This is the faith of the Russian Starets, the Welsh peregrinators, mystics like St John of the Cross and Meister Eckhart. And, not faith. Not really.

Why? Because it involved and affirmed an actual experience of the numinous.

My inner world got shaped, in the end, more by this strain of the Judaeo-Christian tradition. Though. Again, I was only partially aware of that at the time.

When I fell too far away from the very idea of theology, of religious institutions, I went into a long period of quiet. I sold my commentaries, no longer engaged in lectio divina, or used the Jesus prayer.

Camus came back to me. Life is absurd. Without meaning. Death is final, extinction. To live is a choice. One that can be altered.

The Great Wheel came into my life sort of through a back door, a way of understanding Celtic thoughts and motivations. But when Kate and I moved to Andover and our long horticultural, beekeeping, canine loving life really began, the Great Wheel slowly seeped into my thinking about the garden, about the life of dogs and people, about the hives and their superorganism.

That was what I had been prepared for. Staring at the root of an ancient faith. I had the inner tools to accept the Great Wheel as the genius of a culture, one that had clear application to what I did every morning with hoe and spade.

Gradually I came to see that this ancient religious calendar spoke as forcefully to my spirit as the Gospel of Luke, as the prayers of Meister Eckhart. More forcefully at that point.

That was what led me to a bare knuckle spirituality, stripping away the accretions to the Great Wheel that had come from well-meaning, but in my view, silly, Wiccans and Druids.

I saw the Great Wheel, and when I did I saw it through Taoist influenced eyes, as not a belief system but as a metaphor with its feet planted in my garden. It was there, right before my eye. Beltane to Lughnasa. To Samain. To the Winter Solstice.

I had embraced an ancient way, a way I had learned from study and practice. I am, sort of, a traditionalist.

So, Nine of Stones. Hear ye, hear ye. Yes, sir!

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Shadow Mountain Hermitage

September 14, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Bailey. Bailey Patchworkers. Sewing, quilting. Kate, feisty and adorable. From so many cards I got yesterday. Drawing the Death Card. Gratitude. Gabe. Ruth. Jon. Kep and Rigel. Rain yesterday. Kitchen remodeling. Greg Lell, house stainer. Moving forward, into the fourth phase.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tarot and Kabbalah

Tarot: Eight of Pentacles

285 west to Bailey. A favorite journey, usually made to the Happy Camper. The Continental Divide shows up after Pine. The tone becomes more Western. This time though to Platte River Community Church. Upstairs to the social hall where older women sat around round tables, eating off paper plates with plastic forks. Piles of cloth sat on other tables, parts of Kate’s stash now on its way to other sewing rooms, her taste distributed.

I said very little. Kate met you when we moved up here. She loved you and felt loved by you. You encouraged her and were her friends. Thank you.

Oh. And, I took off my shirt. This is not a strip tease. Lots of hands went up, encouraging me to keep going. Flattering at 74. I had on the Love is Enough t-shirt and showed it off because it featured a counted cross-stitch familiar to them.

As I drove away the North Fork of the South Platte River roared over Rocks on its way to Denver’s Water system. I passed the somewhat dilapidated office of the Bailey Flume, a six trailer trailer park, and a home next to the River with a Horse paddock. Bailey is in Park County, no longer the Denver metro and much poorer than Jefferson County where I live.

Been pondering the cards. Again. Still. Drew the eight of pentacles*. Again. Key words from the Druid Tarot Book: Steady progress. Apprenticeship. Training. Makes sense to me after the High Priestess and Death.

I’m in my fourth phase of life, a new path, a new ancientrail has appeared before me. The High Priestess has blessed me and Death holds the gate open. What do I need to do? Work methodically, steadily. Stay on the trail.

What is this trail? Some of it is much clearer now. I need to dive into the tarot, astrology, and kabbalah. Learn about them, keep my head down until I can do readings, cast charts, count the Omer. Bring all of this into conversation with the Great Wheel and Taoist strains of my own thought and practice.

Will I do readings, cast charts? No idea. But that’s the level of learning I want and it will require my attention. I will count the Omer

This trail adds research and study to my already existing writing and painting. Up here in the Shadow Mountain hermitage we have plenty to do. Time now to get at it. The destination is unknown, yes, but it’s end is certain.

“In a general context, the Eight of Pentacles Tarot card indicates a time of hard work, commitment, diligence and dedication. The effort you put in will not be in vain as your hard work will pay off and lead to results, rewards or the accomplishment of your goals. When this Minor Arcana card appears in your Tarot reading, it indicates that you are methodically working towards something you want. It may seem boring, mundane or even relentless at the moment but you are on the brink of achieving great success, so don’t give up. The skills you are learning at the moment will stand to you later in life and you will come away from this experience not only with the inner wisdom you’ve gained but with a sense of pride and self-confidence from achieving your ambitions.” tarotguide

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Let go (Note: correction below)

September 13, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

Monday gratefuls: Tara. The Ancient Ones, holding space for my eventful life. Peregrenatio. Rigel, lying down with me last night. A long night asleep. Orgovyx. Exhaustion. Hot flashes. Cousin Riley, his wife. Diane and Mary in Indiana. Bailey Patchworkers. Kitchen remodelers. House stainer. Jon, Ruth, and Gabe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Death

Tarot: Death, #13 of the Major Arcana

So many help me. Jon, Ruth, Gabe came up Saturday. We had chicken pot pie and I sent them home with two. They also went to Upper Maxwell Falls to scatter some more of Kate’s ashes. I didn’t feel quite up to going and I wondered if it might be better anyhow. Allow them their own time, their own way of saying goodbye.

And, it was so. Here are Gabes’s (correction) words about it:

“Grandma’s metaphorical ashes. The ashes that stuck to the bottom were the parts of grandma that will stay with us forever. The cloudy ashes that eventually dispersed to go to the Atlantic Ocean were the parts of grandma that were temporary and that we don’t need to remember like pain and suffering. And, the glass was the vessel like our bodies, useful but not permanent.”

Leaving for Durango, Bill not pictured. Tom, Paul, me, Mario

The next morning I take a walk with my Ancient friends: Paul, Mario, Bill, and Tom. We spoke to each other in our minds, through the spirit air waves as Mario suggested. We gathered afterward. They’ve allowed me a lot of time to process my ongoing, eventful life. And, I love them for it.

Afterward I went over to an organic breakfast spot, Taspen’s. Been here almost seven years and it was the first time. Meeting Tara, my friend from CBE.

We talked. Tara is a great listener and an empath. When I told her I felt I’d expressed self pity when Jon and the grandkids left on Saturday, she said it sounded like love. Ruth had said, See you, grandpop. And, I said, my voice catching, I hope so. Sounded needy and self-pitying to me at the time.

After talking with Tara, I thought. No. I was vulnerable, sadly hopeful. And I don’t experience vulnerability with them too often. Maybe that’s changing now.

Today I’m going to the meeting of the Bailey Patchworkers. Kate’s stash and other sewing accessories will be given away to her friends there. I asked for a couple of minutes to speak. I’ll tell them that Kate loved them. That they gave her friendship and motivation for sewing. And, right after we got here. She went faithfully as long as she could.

They were a very different crowd from her ordinary social circles. She spoke her political truth often, to folks who didn’t agree. As Lauri, her engineer friend said, “I should have disliked her, but I adored her.” That was Kate.

These are those who helped me just in the last three days. A lucky guy, I am. And, of course, Rigel and Kepler.

Tarot: Death, # 13 in the Major Arcana

I’ve been drawing cards in what some call a daily oracle. Pick out one card, see how it speaks to the day. Oracle is a poor choice of words in that it has a predictive connotation. I don’t find the tarot useful as prophecy. I’ve found it astonishingly useful as a mirror to my inner world. It shows me things I ignore, or overlook, or diminish, or things I didn’t know were there.

Let’s see. I’d call it, I guess, The Daily Mirror. Ha.

Anyhow my point here is that I’m doing my own thing with these daily cards and I’m not only reading the day, but the trends. I’ve had so many cards that spoke to my anima. I’ve remarked on this before. I’ve also had cards like the Hanged Man that speak to a transformation in values, in beliefs, in life way.

The Death card is the apotheosis of that trend. Yes, indeed, it refers to death. But, to death as transition, as transformation, as a severance with the ways of the past (including life, eventually. for Kate, already), an entry way to the new. If you recall the High Priestess from yesterday, she blocked the way on the path. She encouraged waiting, going down into the depths. I’d call it wu wei.

The death card opens the way, suggests I embrace the changes that the anima cards have hinted at, the inner knowledge that the High Priestess wanted me to attain before going on. It also suggests letting go.

Let go, Charlie, of the flat-earth humanism of your post-ministry years. Let go, Charlie, of the old life you had with Kate. (note: this does not mean an end to grief or a diminished view of life with her.). Open yourself to the tarot, to astrology, to kabbalah, to the other world. Open yourself again to the creative life of writing and painting. Live into it. Live with it. Live. Let go of the caregiver, let go of the inner skeptic, the inner editor, the inner cynic. Embrace the mystical, the soulful, the beautiful. Let go.

Die to the old ways and be born again into a fourth phase of life. One focused on creativity and the other world. Let go.

“Meaning: Initiation and transformation. The core structure of initiation involves an experience of death followed by an experience of rebirth…We often have to die to our old ways of thinking, feeling, or behaving before we can open to our new life.” DTB

* “After a period of pause and reflection with the Hanged Man, the Death card symbolises the end of a major phase or aspect of your life that you realise is no longer serving you, opening up the possibility of something far more valuable and essential. You must close one door to open another. You need to put the past behind you and part ways, ready to embrace new opportunities and possibilities. It may be difficult to let go of the past, but you will soon see its importance and the promise of renewal and transformation.

Similarly, Death shows a time of significant transformation, change and transition. You need to transform yourself and clear away the old to bring in the new. Any change should be welcomed as a positive, cleansing, transformational force in your life. The death and clearing away of limiting factors can open the door to a broader, more satisfying experience of life.” biddy tarot

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Uh-oh. Changes.

September 8, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Orgovyx. Biologic Pharmacies. Money. CBE. The New Year. Rigel, sweet girl. Kep, happy boy. Dan Herman. Rich Levine. Alan Rubin. Marilyn Saltzman. Jamie Arnold. Judy Sherman. The Ancient Ones on peregrinatio. Safeway pickup. Cool breeze last night.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dan’s honey

Tarot: Ace of Swords

Big news. $800 a month co-pay for Orgovyx. Not my first encounter with the predatory pricing of American pharma. Kate had a drug, I can’t recall the name right now, that was $500 a month. I’m applying for assistance. Yes, that’s enough, with the hit I took from going to one social security check and losing a third of my pension, to bite. In the decision making process between Orgovyx and Lupron. Lupron has a higher incidence of cardi0-vascular side effects. But, it’s only once every three months and covered by insurance.

Can’t imagine what folks do who don’t have resources at our age. And, that’s the bulk of us, I understand. What if you had to choose between rent and your cancer drug? Or, between food and your cancer drug? Self-triage.

On the other hand life is valuable. Sure. And, I want to do what I can to sustain mine. Let me see? Universal health care, anyone?

Boy, that Safeway really steps up. I put in a pick-up order for 8 am. They sent me a text at 6:00. Ready. Come whenever. I’m glad. It makes the morning simpler.

Barring more illness on Jon’s part or another wreck on Ruth and Gabe’s, we’ll finally distribute some of Kate’s ashes at Upper Maxwell Falls this Saturday. When Jon, Ruth, and Gabe can make it. Ruth told me she wanted some of my chicken pot pie so I’m making some on Friday. It’s been a while. Usually makes four to five full pie tins. Freeze well, too. I’ll give her two and keep two here. A good incentive to actually cook.

This will be the last of the family remembrances originally planned for August 18th. I’m planning a Kate offrenda for Dia de los muertos. I’ll burn a yahrzeit candle. (a twenty-four candle burned on the death date, but it seems appropriate.) Mix up the cultures a bit.

Which brings me to Yamantaka. The mandala at the MIA. Where I learned to accept death, my own. Long meditations on my corpse. Greeting the change, the transformation with excitement. Still sad. Yes. But also, what a moment!

Realizing I’ve been such a flat-earth humanist for so many years. Death=extinction. No god. Life is absurd. Don’t give me any of that metaphysical stuff. Changing.

Oddly, part of the stimulus for the change is a Korean tv show I’m watching, Hotel de Luna. It’s on Netflix. Instead of seeing a psychologist, Seoah saw a mudang, a shaman. Kate and I met him. The Korean worldview is a complicated mix of ancient folk traditions and high-tech, global capitalist culture.

Near Seoul, Kate. April, 2016 Visiting Seoah’s mudang

Hotel de Luna includes an Asian emphasis on ghosts, vengeful ghosts, shamans, an afterlife, and reincarnation. I’ve always dismissed reincarnation. Part of my existentialist, humanist, empiricist worldview. But. Kabbalah includes reincarnation. Buddy Mark Odegard once said he believes in reincarnation. The Buddhists, do, too. Hindus. None of this is evidence of more than a human desire to continue life in any way. Or, is it?

I’m beginning to open myself to the idea. What does it mean? What could it mean? I can feel the consolation it brings and consolation is pretty important. I know that right now. What about my embrace of the Great Wheel? Was I a Druid in a past life? Or, at least a believer in the auld religion?

When I mentioned how hard I find the idea of synchronicity, Jamie said, “Ah. The inner skeptic.” Yes, exactly. What if the inner skeptic needs an equal, perhaps stronger inner believer? What if I could find him again? I knew him once, right after college and on into seminary. He got a lot of learning from Christian mystics, ascetics, the Celtic Christian Church. He saw Jesus, Moses, and Abraham perched together on the sliver of a crescent moon while meditating.

I miss him. That guy that could embrace the irrational, the possibility of an Other World. And not cringe. Not shrink away. He was a bad boy of the Enlightenment. Oddly, the place I’ve retained most of him is in my Taoist thought. Wu wei? Yes. Sometimes. Follow the chi? Yes. Always. Experience the contradictions of consciousness and dreaming? Oh, yes. Follow the I-Ching? Yes.

Then there’s this Tarot. How can it be so damned meaningful, so consistently? Sure, it evokes archetypal thoughts, realizations. Yes. But, where do those archetypes come from? Is it the collective unconscious?

Changes on the horizon, I can feel them. Not there yet. The inner skeptic is still ascendant, but maybe not for long.

Ace of Swords:

“Keywords: Clarity. Clean break.” DTB

For example. I drew this card before I wrote this post. I didn’t look at its meanings until I finished. I mean… How?

The two commentaries below are from the Rider-Waite card, but the Druid Craft card I drew differs from it in a way especially important to me. This is Excalibur, lifted up by the Lady of the Lake. The intellect (the sword) rising from the unconscious.

The Dawn breaks at an inlet between the Loch and the Mountains to either side. I can see those Trees as Birch or Aspen. The Flowers look like Blue Bells. Both Minnesota and Colorado have the unaltered Natural World as substantial aspects of their identities. Birch or Aspen. The Mountains. A Lake.

This card speaks directly to my inner world. The Celts, Jung, my two favorite places on Earth. Appropriate that it should signify a break through. There are dark clouds there, too, and a Bird, maybe a Heron? The Heron is the on the card for the King of Vessels in the Wildwood Tarot.

I drew that card two nights ago. I’ve begun drawing a card at night, something to meditate on before I go to sleep.

Here’s a description: “As a bird that welcomes the dawn and often lives alone, the heron is known for its awareness and spiritual thoughts that its creator offers. This bird, defending ancient secrets, is said to stand at the gate between life and death, acting as a mediator between the Celtic’s journey of the soul to another world and reincarnation.”

Don’t understand how these things can be so closely linked, but perhaps that’s the point. I don’t need to understand, but accept.

“New ideas, new plans, intellectual ability, victory, success, mental clarity, clear thinking, breakthroughs, ability to concentrate, communication, realising the truth, vision, force, focus, intensity, stimulating people and environments, new beginnings, new projects, justice, assertiveness, authority, making the correct decision.” Tarotguide.

“As with all the aces, the Ace of Swords indicates that one is about to experience a moment of breakthrough. With its sharp blade and representing the power of the intellect, this sword has the ability to cut through deception and find truth. In layman’s terms, this card represents that moment in which one can see the world from a new point of view, as a place that is filled with nothing but new possibilities.” Labryinthos

Astrology, Cinema and Television, Dreams, Judaism, Kabbalah, Myth and Story, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Mystic

September 5, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and a slice of Chesed Moon

Fountain formation rocks close and in mid distance

Sunday gratefuls: Cool night. A good day, cleaning and organizing. Grief. Kate, always Kate. Jon feeling better. The Ancient Ones at 9. Sourdough. Sourdough and eggs. Mushrooms. Bread baking. Reconstructing my life. Tarot. Kabbalah. Mysticism. The life of Rocks and Rivers, Trees and Flowers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Book of Life

Tarot: The High Priest, #5 of the Major Arcana

Well, all righty then. Got the loft decluttered, though if you saw it you might not agree. I have a different standard for my workplace than my living place. I like both organized, but the point in my workplace is access and stimulation. In my living place I want a clean house, with things put away in their storage spots. I’ve not achieved this yet downstairs, but it’s the goal toward which I’m pruning.

I’m pleased with the work I did yesterday. The flurry of medical matters over the last few weeks defocused me and got me off the pruning path I’d been on. Last week I got back to full time exercising and kept to a single change I wanted to make. All my appointments go in the afternoon, early afternoon if possible. Keeping the morning clear for Ancientrails, working out, and, eventually, writing again.

One change. A small one. Made for four weeks with clear intention. In this case, each time I call an office or a car service center, schedule haircuts I tell them I want to be seen in the early afternoon. Two to three more weeks and it will be part of me. After that, another small change.

So on.

The entire Harry Potter oeuvre, cinema, came to HBO Max on September first. I’ve been watching them, finished the Goblet of Fire yesterday. I love the immersive world created by set and costume designers, the increasingly dark plot lines, watching the young actors grow both into their roles and as people. Rowling’s cleverness, a distinctly British type, makes everything tinged with irony and spooned over with nostalgia.

Puts the seriousness with which I’ve been taking Tarot, Kabbalah, Judaism in a different perspective. Yes, serious. Yes, fun. Yes, not the ordinary persons experience. A sort of hidden world that includes Astrology, too. The occult, if you fancy that term.

Talked to Rabbi Jamie on Thursday and told him about my speculation concerning reconstruction. That it’s content neutral, a hermeneutic, a way of interpreting the human experience of reality, of each other, of the hidden. Also, that it opens the door for Tarot, Astrology, the Great Wheel. They too can be matters of serious consideration, tools for diving into the inner Lakes and Forests of the Other World we each carry within us.

Too, it opens the possibility that the Other World may be just that. May be that, with an emphasis on be. Or, better, the Other World becomes the Other World as we listen to it, feel its presence in our lives.

The High Priest

“The Hierophant advises that you return to the role of a meticulous student. Learn everything you can about your chosen area. Let that knowledge become a part of you and an operative influence on your day-to-day awareness. In this way, you can slowly and steadily establish real credibility in your field or chosen subject.”

The dream w women asking me to return, to finish my studies. Facing down the animus figures who were rigid and angry. Following the lead of the anima figure who encouraged me, said yes. Even now 56 years later. I can still study, learn. Write. The German shepherd at the gateway who sprung from beneath a cloak and licked me. The magical themes: gateway, angry men, supportive women, the Shepherd, the fiery chair which burned the men and was cool to me. The strong sense of longing to go back. Be a scholar/student. And a writer. The sense of now is the time. This was all at Wabash, though an updated, unfamiliar one.

This life calls to me. Again. Still. From a deep place. And this card reminds me. Again. Look to the library, to the mind, but most of all to the heart. What matters for my soul? For the souls of others?

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Holidays, Kabbalah, Mountains, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Third Phase

The Year of Grieving ends in Wisdom and an Irish Wolfhound

August 29, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Chesed Moon

Sunday gratefuls: 49 degree morning. Ruth, only a strained shoulder and sprained back in a car accident with Jen. Gabe o.k. A quiet three days. Subway. Tarot. Kabbalah. The Hermit. The Magician.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth’s ok

Tarot: finishing the Life spread

As you may recall from yesterday, I created a new Tarot spread. Forgot to say it’s my final project in the class. We all have to show something we’ve learned. Not gonna go through the whole thing with them, too long. And, I imagine you didn’t read it through. But, I have. And, I will again.

Why? Because the tarot cards have the capacity to breach the veil of consciousness into the collective unconscious, to call out and up to awareness archetypal energies at work in my life. The only way to do it? Hardly. Poetry. Art. Friends. Kabbalah. Torah. Sacred literature. Movies. Literature. Nature. The tarot works for me much to my surprise.

#8. Samain/Binah, Three of Wands

“Keywords: Confidence, Realizing goals

Hard work begins to payoff…Realizing long term dreams and goals.” DTB

Perhaps Steiner’s springtime of the soul. A man, a farmer? an arborist?, stands with his hand on a Tree, looking out to the horizon. Beside him three wands have begun to leaf out, signaling that his work is vital, growing. A scene of future possibility. The full grown tree recalls earlier work, perhaps of another such man, now mature.

“Binah refers to the analytic, distinguishing aspects of God’s thought.

It is the uppermost feminine element in the Godhead, and is symbolized as the mother of the Shekhinah. Many of the symbols associated with Binah are therefore identical to those of the Shekhinah.” Jewish Virtual Encyclopedia

8 is infinity stood up straight.

Samain is the time when the veil grows thin and the boundary between this world and the other world is at its most permeable. Thus, Halloween, Dia de los muertos, All Saints. Coco.

The Celts chose to start their year now, at Summer’s End. The seasons between now and Ostara are Samain, Yule/Winter Solstice, and Imbolc. With Ostara these make up the first half of the Celtic year.

All this suggests that my life after Kate’s death may take a turn at Samain rather than Michaelmas. If her spirit/soul lives on (I make no assumptions.), then she will be able to communicate easily with me. I will make her an offrenda, my altar surrounding her ashes is a good start.

We’ll have a meal together, as Latin and Central Americans do in their graveyards on dia de los muertos. We’ll discuss her life and mine. She’ll have a glass of chardonnay, scallops and rare steak with fresh boiled asparagus. Finished off with some espresso, doppio, and a flan. I’ll have the rare steak, fried potatoes, and asparagus. Espresso and flan. A Paulaner Thomasbrau.

Perhaps I will achieve binah about her death and my life, discerning understanding.

#9 Yule/Tipharet Ten of Wands

“Keywords: Demands. Burdens. Overwork.

Carrying the weight of responsibility or obligations on your shoulder…Uncomplaining acceptance of your perceived burden. Reassessing priorities and values.” DTB

“Tipharet represents the ideal balance of Justice and Mercy needed for proper running of the universe.

This Sefirah unites all the upper nine powers.” JVL

The season of Yule, midwinter. The season beginning at the Winter Solstice. I feel strong, centered, in midwinter. 40 years a Minnesotan. The winter will not be ten wands on my back, though I would say that those wands don’t look all that heavy.

The man here, who does look overburdened, has walked a long way and has now begun an uphill segment. Might be me, coming back from down the Hill and through the Valley of grief. Navigating now a new life, back up on the Mountain. It will be, could be, that the new understanding of life will have created a tension between the old ways of life with Kate and the new ways of a realized life without her physical presence. That may be the ten wands.

But tipharet is the beautiful, the balanced place between Justice, Gevurah, and Mercy/Chesed. So it may also be that the wands will have begun to balance themselves, their weight distributed well for the climb.

#10 Imbolc/Hokmah Ten of Pentacles

“Key words: Blessings. Prosperity. Legacy

You may be in receipt of a legacy, or are creating one-either for your family or the wider community. Even difficult circumstances can carry hidden benefits. The chance to count our blessings and discover that they’re too numerous to count.” DTB

This is the last card in the spread, having now come round the full Great Wheel from Ostara to Imbolc. That it should have an Irish Wolfhound on it tells me all I need to know. The circle of Kate and mine’s life is in this card.

The woman stands in the black, out of the frame, perhaps out of this world. Perhaps in the other world. The gray headed man has a blond haired granddaughter by his side, Ruth, and a young man, perhaps Joseph over his shoulder. This represents the family left after the woman has gone into the blackness of death.

Though dead, the woman still holds a pentacle, a symbol of earth and abundance. Her presence is yet a source of comfort and grace for the family still on this side of the veil.

She is not absent from the lives of her family, just absent from Malkut, the physical realm.

This card strongly suggests to me that a full year after Kate’s death will find me, and our family, living and celebrating together, informed and supported by Kate’s legacy, her person and the wealth that she created. The spirit of the Irish Wolfhound, kind, compassionate, loving, loyal made present to all of us.

Since this is also the card for hokmah, or wisdom, I’m also inclined to believe that the year of grieving for Kate will bring to all of us a better sense of how to live our lives, both with each other and for each other.

Beyond the Boundaries, Fourth Phase, Great Wheel, Jefferson County, Mountains, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot

That Bear!

August 6, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Lughnasa Moon

Friday gratefuls: That bear. Fantastic Fungi. The workout. The fall. Mussar. Chili cheese dogs. A Friday with no appointments. Domestic chores. New neighbors coming. Three in a row. The Tarot. Kabbalah. Shan-shui poetry.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Liberation

Tarot: Cernunnos, #15 Druid Craft Deck

Six and a half years later. Three or four years after Kate. I saw a Bear! A big one. On the same road as I was. And, I was on foot.

Yesterday I did another of my outside cardio workouts. I chose to go around the “block” across Black Mountain Drive from me. A pretty long block as it turned out, about 30 minutes worth. Supposed to be 10, but I had a bad image in my head of the length of the roads.

Krashin went down hill. I’ve recently discovered all the side roads from my stretch of Black Mountain Drive go downhill. Hmm. Must live on the top of Shadow Mountain, eh?

Downhill in Krashin’s instance is toward a deep valley that runs between Shadow Mountain and Black Mountain. The forested valley has no roads, no homes, past the end of a short lane off Krashin. Wild. One or two homes on Black Mountain, perhaps a few more, then over the top of its 10,000 foot peak is the large Staunton State Park. Plenty of critters.

As I shook my head at how little I knew of my own neighborhood, I looked up. The road curved further away from a route back to Black Mountain Drive. A big black Bear ambled across it. Way big. Healthy with lustrous black fur, not in a hurry. Off on a morning errand hunting for food. Then it was gone.

A car came by from the Bear’s direction, slowed to a stop. “Yep. I saw him.” “Good. Just wanted to be sure.” No fooling around when it comes to either Bears or Mountain Lions. Either one can create havoc with the human body.

Being on foot made me vulnerable. I had no bear mace, no bells to ring. I was in shorts and a t-shirt, tennis shoes. Not fighting shape.

So I went on anyhow. Curiosity. That thread I mentioned a few posts back? Often helps me make decisions that are not in my immediate best interest. Where was the Bear? I wanted one more glimpse. Perhaps he hadn’t gone far into the woods. There are homes on both sides of the road, but their properties have many trees.

Couldn’t find him. (I say him because of the size.) I did keep looking, realizing I couldn’t outrun a Bear, they’re fast. Frisson.

During stretching I had started watching Fantastic Fungi, a documentary Tom Crane recommended quite a while ago. What a treat. Made me interested, yet again, in Mushrooms, Lichens. I’ve gone through phases. Ready for another one, I believe. Not only finding edible ones, but becoming more familiar with their roles in forest decomposition, communication. Also, psilocybin. (btw: the documentary is on Netflix.)

Just looked up the Colorado Mycological Society. Looks like fun. Birding? No. Not me. Hunting for Mushrooms? Learning more about them? Yes.

Point here with the Bear? The radical interconnectedness that Mycelium, the underground part of a Mushroom, a fruiting body for the organism, offers. Mycelium, threadlike, growing one cell at a time, dominate the rich soil layer near the surface. They carry nutrients back to the fruiting body, sure, but they can also transport nutrients between and among groves of trees.

Like Mycelium, the wildlife here are mostly invisible. Once in a while, a sighting. Usually Elk or Mule Deer. The occasional Fox. Marmot, Woodchuck. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Rarely, Bears, Mountain Lions, Lynx, Bobcats. We moved into their habitat and they’ve learned, more or less, to live around us, out of sight, wild. Like the vast underground networks of Mycelium, there are large populations of wild things all around us. At least up here in the Mountains.

We Humans live such sheltered lives, huddled in our right angled dwellings, getting our food from refrigerators and grocery stores, evading the fall of night with electricity. We, at least most of us, know little about how to sleep outside, find food, evade predators. Yet that is the way of wild things.

Cernunnos, #15 of the Major Arcana in the Druid Craft deck.

Cernunnos is the great horned God of the Celtic pantheon. “…the Gaelic god of beasts and wild places. Often called the Horned One, Cernunnos was a mediator (between humans) and nature, able to tame predator and prey so they might lie down together. He remains a mysterious deity, as his original mythos has been lost to history. A God of the Wild.

Given my brief encounter with the Bear and seeing Fantastic Fungi, this card calls to the deep in me. Joseph used to call me nature boy. My mystical feelings run not toward the ineffable, the distant God, but toward the Mycelium that connect us to the Wild life all around us. Cernunnos is the God of those tiny threads, often invisible to us.

People stop their cars to see Elk harems, Mule Deer fawns, a Fox warming itself on asphalt. Why? We don’t stop for dogs, cows, chickens.

That Bear. What a gift I felt seeing him. Why? Rising up from this Elk, that Fox, the Bear is the numinous presence of Cernunnos, the Wild as a dangerous and alien place. We shiver at the sight of creatures who navigate the wild in their daily existence. They are not of our world.*

Tarot commentators find this card intimidating, warning us against dark impulses, becoming enslaved to our wild passions. Not to me. In our sexuality, in our pairs, in our procreation we become one with the wild, perhaps only during the small death of orgasm, but perhaps also through bonding with another human, one of our own species.

These are not dark impulses, rather they are the wild portions of our own soul. Yes, they can scare us, make us do things we regret. Sure. But they can also show us the animal within us, the one who recognizes Cernunnos as its embodiment.

I celebrate the Wild. Cernunnos. Love making. That Bear.

*We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth. Henry Beston